


Let Me Make It Better

by MaggieMaySheBite



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Cuddling, Don't try this at home kids, Fluff, Harry needs a better boyfriend, Harry swears a lot, Implied Time Travel, M/M, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Poor Harry, Possessive Behavior, Slight Dumbledore Bashing, Slow Dancing, Slytherin! Harry, Tom Is An Asshole, Underage Smoking, Unhealthy Relationships, Unresolved Sexual Tension, they're in love-hate, they're so bad for each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24431929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMaySheBite/pseuds/MaggieMaySheBite
Summary: He narrows his green eyes, jutting out his square jaw in defiance as he glares at the older teen. Tom draws himself up like a snake prepared to strike.Neither says a word. The silence is agonizing.After several minutes, Harry pulls back, smoothing over his expression.“Fine.” Tom just barely managed to contain his sigh of relief, feeling the tension roll off his shoulders. He had really hoped they were past the point of these ridiculous stand-offs. Especially since he always gets what he wants. One way or another.“Good. You need to sneak out after curfew, and-”“I’m not getting your stupid book.” He says it with all the nonchalance he can muster but Tom can hear the mocking, spiteful edge. He doesn’t even give Tom the courtesy of looking at him. Tom can’t remember ever wanting to smack him more.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 53
Kudos: 325





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my first fic plz be gentle. Much love to ChibiPenguin for betaing! <3

Tom Marvolo Riddle hates waiting. His pale, spindly fingers produce a cigarette and a battered lighter from the folds of his robes. He brings it up to his lips and lights his cigarette, exhaling a huff of smoke into the empty classroom before returning the items to their obscure pocket. Dark eyes flick over to one of the windows, showing what some might consider a beautiful sunset bathing the room in fading golden light. But to Tom, it was merely an indicator that his 2nd in command was going to be late. 

He had told Avery to pass the message on to his 2nd earlier that day. It wasn’t a particularly difficult task, but knowing Avery... Tom briefly considers which hex is most appropriate as he impatiently examines his immaculate fingernails. 

“You summoned me?” Tom glances up at his thoroughly annoyed housemate, arms crossed and scowling as if this was the last place he wanted to be. His vibrant green eyes narrow in a half-hearted glare.

“Harry,” Tom’s smile stretches a little too wide, bordering on the predatory, “How nice of you to join me.” The disgruntled teenager scoffs, green robes swishing as he weaves through the rows of empty desks.

“Fuck off with your pleasantries, Tom.” His tone doesn’t carry as much of the venom he usually reserves especially for Tom. Fully taking in Potter’s unkempt appearance, Tom barely contains an undignified snort of amusement. Mud and grass stains are splattered across Harry’s trouser legs and his perpetually messy hair has a small twig sticking out at an odd angle between his dark locks. Tom raised an incredulous eyebrow at the sight.

“Were you attacked?”

“I was actually. A certain someone tried to jinx me when I wouldn’t stop to talk to him.” Harry sneered, annoyance rolling off him in waves.

“Avery can be rather…overzealous.” Tom concedes as Harry settles on the nearest desk, the two just barely brushing shoulders. 

“No,” Harry drawled, “He’s lovely on the rare occasions he manages to remove his head from his arse.”

“Charming as always.” Tom tips his hand, wordlessly offering Harry a drag. He lightly shakes his head and Tom takes another drag, admiring the way golden light catches in his perpetually unruly hair and reflects off of round spectacles.

“Yeah well, I’d be more worried about finding a replacement for him.” 

“What did you do?” The corner of his mouth twitches upward at the little smirk Harry tries and fails to keep off his face. 

“Let’s just say he’s going to be in the hospital wing for a few days getting his ears un-shrivelled.” Tom gives an appreciative little hum. Pride and something akin to fondness fills his empty chest. They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, watching the sun continue to sink behind the trees before Harry speaks up.

“Is this going to take long? I need time to study before dinner.”

“Don't fret, love. This shouldn’t take long.” Tom checks the silencing charm and secrecy wards again. “I need you to open the Chamber of Secrets tonight and retrieve a certain scroll from Salazar Slytherin’s personal library.” 

Harry says nothing.

Normally, he would offer some kind of token objection before ultimately agreeing with a casual shrug. But now there’s not even a scoff. Tom raises an expectant eyebrow. It’s not like he’s asking Harry to kill someone. Not yet, anyway. He can practically see the gears turning in Harry’s head. The silence stretches out in a long pause. 

“Why?” Harry finally asks. Concern and suspicion line his brow. Tom tries to stamp down his annoyance, because really, it’s a simple request. He hasn’t needed to cajole Harry into doing menial tasks for him in several months. Tom takes another slow drag.

“I need it for a certain ritual.” Tom responds evenly, smoke curling upwards as he tries to keep the mounting irritation from his voice. 

“What kind of ritual?” Harry presses, ignoring the way Tom’s nostrils flare and his fingers tighten imperceptibly on the cigarette. 

“It’s nothing you need to be concerned about” Tom coldly bites out in a tone that he knows makes lesser men flinch. But this is Harry Potter he’s talking to. 

He narrows his green eyes, jutting out his square jaw in defiance as he glares at the older teen. Tom draws himself up like a snake prepared to strike.

Neither says a word. The silence is agonizing.

After several minutes, Harry pulls back, smoothing over his expression.

“Fine.” Tom just barely managed to contain his sigh of relief, feeling the tension roll off his shoulders. He had really hoped they were past the point of these ridiculous stand-offs. Especially since he always gets what he wants. One way or another. 

“Good. You need to sneak out after curfew, and-”

“I’m not getting your stupid book.” He says it with all the nonchalance he can muster but Tom can hear the mocking, spiteful edge. He doesn’t even give Tom the courtesy of looking at him. Tom can’t remember ever wanting to smack him more. 

“Harry,” The implicit warning seeps into Tom’s voice, but goes unheeded by Harry. Merlin, he never did learn when to shut up.

“Or what, you’re gonna sic Avery on me again? Oh wait-”

“Harry,” Tom seethes.

“No!” Harry shouts pushing away from the desk “Fuck you, I am not one of your minions you can just order around. You may have my hands tied right now, but I will never stop fighting you. I was sent here with one reason. You’re bloody delusional if you think I’m going to-”

“Harry.” The sibilant hiss of parseltongue stops Harry in his tracks. Drawn to his full height, Tom towers over him with a look that has the younger man paling. The rest of Harry’s scathing response dries up in his throat. 

“Give me your hand.” Raising an uncertain eyebrow, Harry slowly uncurls his shaking fingers, revealing his palm. Tom languidly takes another drag from his dwindling cigarette, dark eyes boring into Harry’s skull. 

Before the anxious teen could even blink, Tom viciously stubs the burning end of his cigarette into Harry’s open palm. With a pained shout, Harry recoils away, using his good hand to try and pry Tom’s fingers off of his wrist. 

“What the fuck, get off me!” Tom uses his considerable height to crowd Harry back into the desk, pinning his wrists down. Harry prepares to kick Tom in the shin, but completely stills as emerald eyes meet dark irises, now swirling with vermillion leeching outward from bottomless pupils. A cruel smile spreads across Tom’s face, contorting his aristocratic features into something that closer resembled the monster Harry knew he would grow into. Harry’s breath stutters to a halt.

“The only reason I allow you to speak to me this way is because I find it mildly amusing.” Tom’s spindly fingers gently caress the bruises blooming on Harry’s wrists. “Have you forgotten how easily I can rip my way into that pretty head of yours?” Tom leans forward closing what little space was left between them. He noses along a strong jaw, mouth resting against the shell of Harry’s ear, eliciting a shiver.

“I could make your life a living hell. I could break you.” He pauses to drink in the terror rolling off of Harry, practically tasting it in the air.

“But I won’t.” Tom pulls away to better appreciate the look on Harry’s face. He releases one of Harry’s wrists to firmly grip his jaw, forcing the younger man to look at him.  
“Because I take care of what’s mine.”

Satisfied with his little display, Tom extricates himself from Harry’s personal space, leaving him to nearly collapse. Tom thinks he looks quite the picture; pupils dilated, shaking like a leaf, and so nearly hyperventilating. But the cherry on top is the unshed tears swimming in Harry’s eyes. Tom huffs out a laugh, turning on the poor teenager with a vicious smirk.

“Have I upset you, my darling?” Tom croons in mock sympathy at the unconcealed hurt that pulls Harry’s mouth into a deep frown. 

“Let me make it better.” Pale fingers wrap around Harry’s wrist to bring the burned palm up to Tom’s mouth. In a deceptively tender gesture, Tom places a gentle kiss to the angry welt that will surely scar over.

Harry sucks in a surprised breath, a light blush spreading over his cheeks. Tom murmurs “My horcrux.” into Harry’s palm, lips delicately brushing over the afflicted area. 

Harry forcefully shoves Tom’s looming figure away, bumping into desks and throwing several colorful curses over his shoulder as he practically runs out of the room. Malicious laughter rings through the empty classroom along with the promise to see Harry at dinner. The sound carries even after he slams the door shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So sorry, Tom. What part of the word ‘no’ confused you?” Harry glares at him for all that he’s worth. Tom’s eyes widen in surprise for a moment. Harry strengthens his resolve as his heart starts beating a tattoo in his chest. Tom snorts, that stupid, overconfident smirk spreading over his face. 
> 
> “The part where I know you’re going to do it anyways.” Tom rises from his seat, throwing his book bag over his shoulder and forcing Harry to look up at him through his overgrown bangs. 
> 
> “How are you so sure I’m going to do what you want?” Harry sneers.
> 
> Tom bends down, leaning close to whisper in Harry’s ear, “Because you always do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one shot but I guess I tripped and wrote another chapter. Whoops.  
> Lots of love to Zenbujin for betaing! <3

The great hall is just as crowded and noisy as ever, even if the faces have changed. Harry is suddenly reminded why he begged the sorting hat not to put him in Slytherin all those years ago as Dolohov and Goyle argue over a pair of missing socks of all things. Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to being surrounded by a sea of green every day. Harry tiredly chews on his bacon. Today is going to be a long day. 

It gets longer when Tom Riddle slides onto the bench next to him in the space that’s always left untouched next to him. Harry groans internally when Tom throws a possessive arm over his shoulder.

“Good morning, dear.” Tom beams at him with a look that would make any weaker witch or wizard fall over themselves. Harry arches an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“Hey, Potter.” Goyle rounds on Harry, managing to grab both his and Tom’s attention.  
“Do you have any idea where my socks went?”

“Did you check up your arse, Gregory?” Abraxas chimes in from the other end of the table with laughter and several high fives.

“Shove it, Malfoy. No one asked your opinion, did they?” Goyle shouts back, throwing a rude hand gesture at him for his trouble. Harry resists the urge to rub his face with both hands. Merlin’s beard, he misses coffee.

“Did you check in your trunk?” Harry uses the most level tone he can manage. He doesn’t need another fight this early in the morning.

“Well, no, but-” Goyle sneers.

“You should consider checking your trunk.” Harry deadpans, taking a swig of his pumpkin juice. Tom throws an appreciative smirk out of the corner of his eye. 

“You know what, Potter, not everyone here appreciates your smart mouth.” Goyle indignantly complains. Tom uses the distraction to slide in entirely too close to Harry.

“I definitely appreciate your mouth.” Tom practically purrs in his ear. 

“Tom!” Harry sputters, face turning red and nearly spitting out his pumpkin juice.

“Me.” Tom grins, stealing a piece of bacon off of Harry’s plate. The corner of Harry’s mouth tips upwards, and a warm feeling blooms in his chest. 

His smile drops. Harry shovels a forkful of eggs into his mouth. He doesn’t want to think about it. 

“Goyle, Dolohov, don’t you both have to get to your classes?” Tom asks politely with a pointed look.

“Well, no, class doesn’t start for another twenty minutes.” Goyle says with a confused frown. Tom shoots him a baleful glare from across the table. Dolohov rolls his eyes and elbows Goyle in the side, exaggeratedly nodding his head towards the door. Finally taking the hint, Goyle’s eyes widen in understanding.

“Yes, we need to get going before we’re late.” He says a little too loudly. Dolohov gets up, with an exasperated sigh. Goyle manages to snag an extra piece of sausage before following Dolohov, leaving Harry and Tom with relative privacy.

“He’s a keeper.” Harry drawls, pushing around the leftover food on his plate. Tom picks up an apple from the center of the table.

“His father’s connections are too convenient to pass up.” Tom explains, taking a bite.

“Malfoy’s father already has ‘connections’,” Harry raises his fingers in the universal symbol for air quotes. Tom raises an amused eyebrow. “How much more could you possibly need?”

“All of them.” Tom says with a toothy grin, earning an annoyed scoff from Harry. Tom takes another bite of his apple as Harry takes another swig of his pumpkin juice. The silence is filled with the ever-present background chatter of other students.

“So,” Tom says in a low voice, “You still haven’t done that thing I asked you to do.”

Harry tenses in his seat. He slowly turns his head to properly look Tom in the eye. 

“So sorry, Tom. What part of the word ‘no’ confused you?” Harry glares at him for all that he’s worth. Tom’s eyes widen in surprise for a moment. Harry strengthens his resolve as his heart starts beating a tattoo in his chest. Tom snorts, that stupid, overconfident smirk spreading over his face. 

“The part where I know you’re going to do it anyways.” Tom rises from his seat, throwing his book bag over his shoulder and forcing Harry to look up at him through his overgrown bangs. 

“How are you so sure I’m going to do what you want?” Harry sneers.

Tom bends down, leaning close to whisper in Harry’s ear, “Because you always do.” 

With that, Tom plants a chaste kiss to Harry’s cheek and walks away, leaving the poor boy to gape after him. 

~~~~~

Harry doodles miniature knights fighting dragons on his parchment. Unlike Tom, who diligently takes notes in the seat next to him, Harry feels no need to pay attention to the lecture. He’s since gotten bored of learning the same concepts a second time. In the meantime, he has to get through another transfiguration lesson with his second least favorite professor.

It’s surreal to see the old man he once knew with red hair and a short beard. His robes are still as tacky as ever, so Harry supposes that’s at least something. While the man is an actually decent teacher; patiently answering questions and explaining things in an accessible way, Harry can’t get past the fact that it’s Dumbledore. Occasionally, he’ll look at Harry and Tom with something vaguely bordering on suspicion. Tom just blinks innocently at him, needing to maintain his image as a good student and prefect. Harry resists the urge to give Dumbledore the finger. 

After another agonizing ten minutes, Dumbledore dismisses the class with a reminder to read the next chapter in their textbooks. Relieved, Harry unceremoniously stuffs his supplies into his book bag, making Tom visibly cringe. Tom slowly packs his things, making a point to look Harry in the eye as he meticulously places every item in it’s designated pocket. Harry rolls his eyes, and adjusts the strap of his book bag, noisily jostling it’s contents. Tom sighs through his nose. As they stand up to leave, Dumbledore calls out, “Mr. Potter please see me after class.”

Tom raises a questioning eyebrow at Harry who shrugs in response, splaying his hands out as if to say, ‘fuck if I know’. Tom spares a fleeting glance at Dumbledore, eyes slightly narrowed and lips pressed into a thin line before looking back at Harry. He waves Tom off with a reassuring look and an, “I’ll catch up with you later.” After a moment, Tom gives Harry a curt nod and strides out of the room, leaving him alone with his old headmaster turned transfiguration professor. Harry wants to curse. 

He drags his feet to the front of the room and drops his book bag on the floor next to him with a thud, crossing his arms over his chest and stopping in front of where Dumbledore sits at his desk.

The man peers up at him from over his half moon spectacles like he’s a particularly challenging puzzle. Harry briefly wonders how much detention he would get if he just walked out right now. Dumbledore gestures to the bowl of candy he keeps near the edge of his desk. 

“Would you like a lemon drop?” Harry clenches his jaw, trying to reign in his scathing sarcasm and irritation.

“No. I do not want a lemon drop.” he says in a clipped tone. Dumbledore hums thoughtfully, steepling his fingers together. They stare at each other for a moment, almost sizing the other up. Dumbledore smiles warmly at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. It would be disarming if Harry didn’t know better. 

“So,” he says airily. “I’ve heard that you and Tom are what the young people call ‘an item’ now.” Harry nearly chokes on his own spit. This was not the direction he thought this conversation would go. Dumbledore’s watching his reaction intently, like a cat waiting to pounce.

“If that’s what you want to call it.” His answer is guarded, not wanting to give the old man an inch.

“Well, Harry, what would you call it?” Dumbledore asks diplomatically. It’s a simple question that Harry doesn’t even know how to start answering, or if there’s even a word for what they are. They’re not friends, and they’re not trying to kill each other, and it’s most certainly not like they’re dating. That would be absurd. After a minute of scrambling for a proper answer, Harry gives up, offering a lame,“It’s complicated,”with a shrug. Dumbledore hums thoughtfully. 

“Relationships can be devilishly difficult. I know mine certainly were.” Dumbledore muses with a small chuckle. His eyes hold that grandfatherly twinkle he was so fond of. It used to comfort Harry. Now it makes him sick.

“Do you practice that in the mirror every morning or does it come naturally?” Harry snaps, just wanting this conversation to be over with. A sorrowful look slides over Dumbledore’s face.

“Harry, dear boy, I’m not too old to remember what first love feels like. I know what it’s like to be so infatuated with someone that we can’t see their flaws; to think that someone will sweep you off your feet and shower you with love and attention for the rest of your life.” Harry does not want to hear this. 

“I’m going to be late for charms.” He picks up his book bag and slings it over his shoulder, prepared to leg it out of the classroom. 

“Tom is not that person. He will never love you back, Harry.” Dumbledore speaks softly, but his words hit him like a punch in the gut, which is ridiculous. Harry already knows that. It doesn’t explain how much it hurts though. 

“Does it ever occur to you that not everyone can be manipulated into doing what you want? Not everyone falls for your paternalistic bullshit!” He shouts over the growing lump in his throat. 

“I don’t pretend to know what’s going on between you two or what Tom’s up to, but he needs to be stopped.” Dumbledore looks like his heart is breaking. He has no right to look that sympathetic. Not to Harry.

“For the greater good, right?” Harry spits out with a humorless smile. 

“For your own sake.” Harry stops short. For a moment, Dumbledore looks like his old self; tired, aged beyond his years, and the world bearing down on his shoulders. Harry opens his mouth and shuts it just as quickly, unable to say anything. The corners of his mouth twist down into a frown as he struggles to stave off unexpected tears. Harry takes a shuddering breath, looking anywhere but at his old headmaster, fingers tightening over the strap of his bookbag. After a few minutes, Harry regains enough of his composure to smooth over the raw pain written all over his face.

“Fuck you,” Harry grumbles, as he turns around and walks out of the classroom, his feet carrying him literally anywhere else but here. 

He doesn’t leave fast enough to miss the “Fifty points from Slytherin and detention at 7 o’clock on Friday.” Dumbledore throws at him on his way out. 

~~~~~

Harry walks into the Slytherin common room around one in the morning to find Tom Riddle lounging in one of the ornate armchairs, long legs dangling off one of the armrests as he reads by the dying firelight. Everyone else must have gone off to bed ages ago. The sparse light from the fire dances across the empty furniture, making long shadows shift along the walls. Harry shuts the door with a click, drawing Tom’s attention away from his book. His eyes widen as he takes in Harry’s disheveled hair and the dust and grime clinging to his uniform. Harry wordlessly rummages through his book bag, producing a large, dusty scroll that looks like it hasn’t been touched since the middle ages. He tosses it at Tom, who catches it and immediately unrolls it to greedily skim its contents. 

“Satisfied?” Harry asks as he trudges past Tom. He decides he’s going to take a long shower, crawl into bed, and sleep for a week. 

Before he can reach the stairs that lead down to the dormitories, Harry’s stopped by the alluring hiss of Parseltongue. 

“ _Harry…_ ” Tom hisses, hand appearing over the back of his armchair with a ‘come hither’ gesture. Harry barely contains his frustrated groan.

“God fucking damnit,” Harry grumbles under his breath as he marches back to where Tom patiently waits for him.

“What?” Harry grouses, hands on his hips. With a pointed look, Tom sets the scroll on the end table next to him, and pats his thigh. Harry’s eyebrows disappear into his bangs. 

“Are you fucking serious?” 

“As a basilisk, love.” Tom croons in English. He pats his thigh again in invitation. Harry longingly casts his eye back to the stairs. He really just wants to sleep. But then again... Tom’s wearing that smile he only ever reserves for Harry. It’s not polite or cruel or vindictive, even if slightly arrogant. It’s one of the few that reaches his eyes and makes them light up with fondness. It makes him look human. 

Harry looks around again, making sure they’re really alone as he rethinks all of his life’s choices. With an exasperated sigh, Harry drops his bag on the floor and settles into Tom’s lap, resting his head on his chest. Tom wraps his arms around him, carding his fingers through Harry’s unruly locks. 

“And yes, I am satisfied. You did well.” Tom says in a low voice. 

“Even if it took me long enough?” Harry presses his face into the fabric of Tom’s shirt.

“Yes, darling.” Tom murmurs into Harry's hair, pressing a kiss to his temple.

They don’t say anything else for several minutes, just appreciating each other’s company. Harry watches the dying embers in the fireplace. He blinks slowly, nearly dozing off, when Tom speaks up.

“Goyle found his socks.”

“Yeah? Where were they?” Harry sleepily mumbles into his chest.

“In his trunk.” Harry can hear the smirk in his voice. “You should have seen his face.” Harry huffs out an amused laugh. He soaks up Tom’s warmth, feeling the way his chest moves with each even breath, mindlessly tracing invisible shapes on Tom’s collarbone with his finger.

“You know, Harry,” Tom starts, pausing like he’s unsure what to say. “I know you don’t agree with me or my methods.” Harry picks his head up to properly look at Tom with a frown. He doesn’t have the words to describe how much he does not want to have this conversation right now. 

“Tom-” Harry warns. 

“But I’ll make it good for us.” His arms tighten around Harry like he never wants to let go. “No more orphanages, or ignorant muggles, or us barely scraping by.” Tom’s dark eyes swirl with an intensity that threatens to suck Harry in. 

Tom gently intertwines their fingers. He raises Harry’s hand to his lips, placing a reverent kiss to the burn scar on his palm. 

“I promise. ” Tom whispers against his hand like a prayer. Harry’s breath catches in his throat.

And damn it all, he’s going to get choked up for a second time today. “I know how this ends, Tom. It’s not worth it.” He’s intimately acquainted with the collateral damage of Tom’s ambition.

“It doesn’t matter. Past, present, or future we always manage to find each other. We’re inevitable.” Tom’s words strike a chord in Harry. The truth of it buries itself into his bones and makes a home there. 

He tucks his head under Tom’s chin and it feels like coming home. He smells like fresh parchment, and ink, and something dark and heady that makes Harry want to stay like this forever.

He knows how far he’s fallen.

But, the way he fits against Tom is just right. Like they were always meant to be.

Like they were made for each other. 

And really, that should be more terrifying than it is. But Harry can’t summon a single fuck to give. He dozes off, feeling more content than he’s been in years.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Harry go on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, now I have a whole plot arch to write. Have some PG-13 smooches. Lots of love to my anonymous beta! <3

“What is it?”

“A surprise.”

“The kind of surprise that you have to drag me all the way to the Room of Requirement for?”

“Harry.”

“What? There’s nothing else on this floor.”

Tom shoots Harry a withering look over his shoulder.

“Okay, fine, I’ll pretend to be surprised.”

Tom walks back and forth seven times, fiercely concentrating on what he wants to show Harry. A large wooden door materializes out of the brick. Tom looks around the empty corridor, triple-checking that they’re alone before he pushes the door open. Tom can’t help the swell of pride in his chest as Harry gasps in astonishment.

The room is relatively small, unlike the large cavernous hall storing centuries worth of other peoples’ junk. A small but elegant chandelier hangs over the middle of the room above a wide rug. A green couch that’s suspiciously similar to the one that went missing earlier from the common room is pushed against the wall to leave ample space in the center of the room. A gramophone stands off to the side, glinting with the light from the cozy fireplace tucked into the far wall.

Tom had spent several afternoons pacing in front of the wall, trying to get all the details just right. By the look on Harry’s face, Tom knows it was worth all the practice. He takes another appreciative look around. It’s the kind of room Tom would like to have someday in his home.

“Wow,” Harry breathes, taking it all in.

“You have such a way with words.” Tom leans against the wallpaper, grinning.

“What?... Why?” Harry starts. A small smile plays at the corners of his lips. 

“I wanted to try something,” Tom says, pulling his wand out of his pocket. He points it at the gramophone with a small flick of his wrist, causing the needle to drop and filling the room with the swell of violins. 

Pocketing his wand, Tom pushes off the wall and walks over to Harry. With perfect poise, Tom bows low, sweeping his foot back and offering his hand with a confident smirk.

“May I have this dance?”

His smirk widens as Harry blushes, scarlet creeping up to the tips of his ears.

“Is this a date?” Harry asks as he lowers his hand into Tom’s.

“It’s whatever you want it to be, darling.” Tom leads him to the center of the room, pulling Harry close and moving one of Harry’s hands to his shoulders. Tom rests a hand on Harry’s waist as the rest of the band joins in.

“Do you know how to waltz?” Tom asks, lightly squeezing Harry’s hand.

“I learned it a lifetime ago,” Harry says. He's wearing the far-off look he sometimes gets when he thinks Tom’s not looking. It would happen anywhere, seemingly unprompted. Harry would go still enough that passerby thought he was merely staring off into space. But Tom knew better. He could see the silent horror reflected in Harry’s eyes, making him look so much older than his years. Tom always wondered what Harry saw, but never pried. But now, Harry smiles fondly, green eyes crinkling at the corners; like he’s remembering something good for once. 

Tom doesn’t know what the warm feeling in his chest means; all he knows is that that particular smile belongs to him. And no one else. He grips Harry’s waist a little tighter.

Tom leads him through the basic steps, occasionally adding extra spins and twirls between the playful rise and fall of the violins. 

“You know, they don’t make music like this where I’m from,” Harry says.

“What’s the music like in your time?” Tom asks.

“Well, it’s loud. And angry. People don’t really dance like this anymore. It’s more jumping up and down and shoving than anything,” Harry says with a grin. Tom lowers his eyebrows in confusion, making Harry’s grin widen. Tom can’t help the upwards quirk of his lips.

“It’s a shame your generation doesn’t do this anymore.” Tom dips Harry, hand sliding slightly lower than appropriate. Harry lets out a breathless giggle as the music winds down.

“You know what my generation can do though?” Harry moves both hands to cup Tom’s face. It never ceases to amaze him how much Harry trusts him not to drop him. A fond smile creeps up to Tom’s eyes as the music starts to fade.

“What is that, love?” Tom asks. 

Harry drags his head down for a kiss, crashing his slightly chapped lips against Tom’s. It starts off chaste, but quickly devolves into something more heated as Tom licks his way into Harry’s mouth. Harry wraps his arms around Tom’s neck, hands sliding under his robes to feel the muscles of his back. Harry bites at Tom’s bottom lip hard enough to draw out a small moan. He feels Tom’s possessive growl rumble under his hands. Tom walks them back, making both of them stumble awkwardly until Harry’s knees hit the back of the couch. He falls back with a surprised gasp, clinging to Tom’s shoulders like a lifeline.

Tom gently pries Harry’s hands off and breaks away to shuck his outer robes, smirking at the way Harry follows every movement with undisguised interest. Harry raises a challenging eyebrow. Tom feels his breath hitch.

He always did appreciate Harry’s competitive streak. 

With a mischievous grin, Harry grabs Tom’s tie and pulls him back down into a clumsy kiss that makes their teeth clack together. Tom grips the back of the couch for balance as Harry delves deeper into his mouth, exploring every inch with his tongue. Tom moves closer, resting his knee between Harry’s slightly parted thighs and completely looming over him. Harry breaks away to nip and kiss his way along Tom’s jaw and down to his neck. Tom tips his head back and moves his spindly fingers into Harry’s hair, tugging on the messy locks.

“I actually have to tell you something,” Tom says.

“Can it wait?” Harry asks. His voice is muffled, his mouth preoccupied with making hickeys on Tom’s pale skin. 

“No, it’s serious. I need to tell you before it slips my mind again.” Tom tugs a little harder, making Harry pop off with a frown. “Besides, we can finish this later,” he says with a suggestive grin. Harry groans in frustration and pulls away, his hair mussed and looking thoroughly annoyed. Tom just has to kiss him one more time, lingering just a tad longer than necessary. 

“Ok, what?” Harry asks, softer this time.

“Do you remember all that time I spent on my own last Summer?” Tom starts.

“Yeah.” Harry arches a curious eyebrow.

“Well, I wasn’t actually looking for that book,” Tom concedes.

“Shocking,” Harry deadpans.

“Don’t be rude,” Tom chastises, encompassing Harry’s hands in his own and lightly squeezing.

“Ok, fine, what were you doing last Summer?” Harry rolls his eyes with a fond smile.

“Well, I was looking at different apartments.” Tom kneels in front of Harry, bringing them closer to eye-level.

“Yeah?” Tom can see the gears turning behind his emerald eyes.

“And my loan from Gringotts was approved today,” Tom says with an expectant look. Harry doesn’t react right away. He looks off to the side, still putting the pieces together.

“So you’ve already got a place lined up for when we graduate?” Harry asks politely.

“No; _we’ve _got a place lined up.” A wide grin splits Tom’s face.__

__“What?” Harry’s eyes widen like a deer in headlights._ _

__“You’re going to love it,” Tom continues. “It’s not far from the park and it’s only a few blocks away from that bakery you like.” His dark eyes light up in the closest thing to happiness Harry has ever seen on him. Tom speaks so enthusiastically, he almost misses the way Harry’s smile drops._ _

__“Wait, Tom.” Harry pulls his hands out of Tom’s grip. Tom’s hands suddenly feel cold without him. “I don’t want to move in with you.”_ _

__The silence would be deafening, if not for the blood rushing through Tom’s ears. He blinks in shock, the words replaying in his mind like a broken record._ _

__“Pardon?” he asks, because surely he must’ve misheard. Harry suddenly stands up to anxiously pace around the room, leaving Tom kneeling in front of his empty space on the couch._ _

__“You can’t just spring that on me, Tom.” Harry crosses his arms over his chest. He grumbles to himself, as if trying to parse out what he wants to say.“You- You didn’t even ask first.”_ _

__Tom’s face contorts in disbelief. He stands up with a scoff, picking his robe up off the floor and straightening to his full height._ _

__“What’s there to ask?” Tom nonchalantly brushes the dust off of his robes. “You’re mine. We’re together. I don’t see what the problem is,” he replies coldly. Harry stops in his tracks and looks at him like he can’t believe what he’s hearing._ _

__“You’re such an arsehole,” Harry seethes, turning away to continue his pacing._ _

__“It’s not like you’re going anywhere without me,” Tom interjects. Harry rounds on him with a furious snarl._ _

__“I’m not your property, Tom!” Harry shouts._ _

__“Aren’t you though?” Tom asks, with a cruel sneer. Harry’s face crumples in raw hurt, jaw dropping in disbelief. Tom smiles in satisfaction, knowing he’d hit his mark. Harry blankly stares at the carpet like he’s trying to blink back tears. Tom’s satisfaction dries up in his mouth._ _

__“Harry?” Tom slowly approaches him like he would a wild animal. Tom raises his hand to cup Harry’s face._ _

__“Love?”_ _

__Harry jerks his head away as if he’d been slapped. In that moment, he manages to pull himself back together, expression hardening into something that tugs at Tom’s insides._ _

__“This was a mistake,” Harry says, shoving past Tom and striding towards the door without so much as a backward glance. Something disturbingly close to panic sinks its claws into Tom’s chest._ _

__“Where are you going?” Tom’s rooted to the spot. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go._ _

__“Away.” Harry slams the door behind him, leaving Tom with nothing but the soft whir of the record player. He stares after the door for several minutes, almost daring to hope that Harry would come back and change his mind._ _

__He doesn’t._ _

__Tom’s fingernails dig into his palm hard enough to turn his knuckles white and draw blood. He takes several deep breaths to try and quell the shaking in his hands. Tom pulls out his wand and points it at the gramophone with a hissed, “ _confringo _.”___ _

____The gramophone explodes into hundreds of pieces, shredding nearly everything in a ten metre radius._ _ _ _

____Tom lets him go. Harry always comes back to him. Always._ _ _ _


End file.
